Holy Whore, Batman! It's Miss Massachusetts!

So I get up. BFF calls. We go to Massachusetts. Easy enough.

After driving for about 4 1/2 hours on what is supposed to be a 3 1/2 hour drive, I get cranky. My sister drove. Her friend rode shotty. BFF and I horsed around in the back seeing Backstreet Boy tunes. Life was good at that moment, I thought.

We have arrived. Shopping was the plan of action for the 2 of us, while sister & sister's friend went to thier beloved Madonna concert. There was a woman outside, dressed like a Christian slut with a sign that read, "The only Madonna is the Virgin Mary" Sister's friend got all up in her face with a camera. Anthony and I had plans of our own. We were going to dress up as Crayola crayons and protest a Maroon 5 concert saying that "the only color is white, and that is the color of God." Racist crayons rule the world.

We didn't take into consideration that it was Sunday. Sunday = Everything is closed. All 5 malls, the outlets, the movies. Now what to do? Shit, we had time to spare. We could ask slutty nun to save our souls, but I didn't have any cash on me so that was out of the question. What else is there to do?

Buy cheapo Madonna tickets and pay a visit to the virgin herself.

I am not a huge Madonna fan. I can dig some of her music, maybe even her attire, but when it comes to personality she's full of shit. I've watched her go between accent to no accent, doing it in a church to Kabbalah. This woman is brings new meaning to the word fickle.

Anyhow...

We go. We get better seats that the 4 die hard Madonna groupies. Kickass.

Diva comes on stage looking amazing. She's ripped. The dancing was incredible. The costumes were my favorite part. She had kickass dancers, kickass shoes, kickass effects. Life was good for the two hours, sans the slow songs and her attempts at guitar. It got hot after a while, but I managed to shake it anyway. I think it was the ambience created by each homosecual in the audience. They were at thier temple. They were praying to thier God. And she answered them by playing her awesome 80's muzak.

At one point she looked in me and BFF's direction. Like, right at us. Now, what's the protocol for that type of situation? What are you supposed to do? Here I was, gawking at the sight of a woman who I saw on TV basically my whole life. My first tape was a song by her. I used to kareoke to her in front of my bedroom mirror. And there she was. I thought aboutflashing her. But then I thought about my sister a few rows behind me. Bad idea.

I saw so many people in the audience who looked like a mirror image of Anthony and I. Girlfriends and thier fag hags.

I'm not going to lie, I had a good time. And seeing a Madonna concert was worth the drive, more so than a trip to a movieplex in Mass to see "White Chicks." I mean, I could see that here. Or never.

To see BFF's accounts of this trip go here.